"Womanfeast by NancyB"
By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu)

URL: https://pastebin.com/DGaUd51c
Created on: Sunday 14th of February 2016 11:49:32 PM CDT
Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:40:36 AM UTC


The Blessing circle broke up into pairs and threesomes. Women wandered away, flushed and bursting with joyous oneness, positively overflowing. The ground inside the Lilithlovers' Faire was almost sticky with it, Laura thought, as she stowed her laptop and camera and made her way toward the circus tent. Oh, right, not circus tent, what are they calling it this year, the Wimmenscentre, some ridiculous pseudo-renaissance assault on the language.

Her interview with the founder of the Faire was scheduled to start in twenty minutes. Laura sat under an elm to finish recording the Faire's agenda for the New Age zine which had hired her. All around her, the earth mothers definitely held sway. Their skirts were Indian and gauzy, their scents, patchouli and herbal. The elder wore their Birkenstocks, and the younger their ankle bracelets and toe rings, and all of them were braless. Crystal vendors vied with herbalists, and chakra readers elbowed up against the booths of the reike masters. The channelers had already started bellering, competing with the cacophony of five separate but equally loud new age musicians. It was all enough to send Laura digging for her earplugs, still in her jacket pocket from the trap and skeet meet she'd covered last month, on these very grounds. Oh, since then, of course they'd had the female Shaman and a stray Tibetan priestess or two come here to bless it. One wouldn't dream of holding such a gathering of women without spirit-douching, right? Laura nodded, yup, a couple more hours of this and I'll need an enema myself, available in the third herbal booth to the right.

A few minutes later Laura was greeted by Diantha, herself, floating toward the tent flaps, her luscious body barely concealed in a lavender gown, tossing her shrieking red hair. How many mental steps back can I take before I am unconscious? Laura wondered, as the two women kissed, embraced and settled into camp chairs. Every New Ager who owned a map of the Sedona ley lines could recite chapter and verse on the legendary Diantha. How she had her first visions of the Goddess after struggling with the challenge of recognizing her bisexuality in the early 90's, a time when life was so repressive...now wait, Laura thought, wait a minute. Wasn't being BI just about the hippest thing you could BE in the nineties? There was even a TV show about it, wasn't there? Everyone also knew about Diantha's spiritual/sexual pilgrimages in the wilds south of Yuma. She was the pinup girl of us BI-folk, thought Laura. Diantha was every BI-girl's wet dream. Ahem!! Laura shook herself. What she had come to do today was delve deeper, as a penetrating journalist, not a sex-crazed groupie, she reminded herself. Let's explore new ground.

The first few minutes she spent massaging Diantha's rather voluptuous ego, but then Laura intoned, "Lilith. First wife of Adam. Bloodier than Grendel's mother. Not exactly a role model for us women, is she?"
Diantha shot back, "Oh, that is just a terrible lie. Don't you know that's what our enemies always do! They make up terrible stories about our Goddess. Lilith was Firstmother! Lilith was Firstwoman! The reason she was blotted out of HERstory was because she was too much for any man." Diantha sat back, panting.

Laura responded, "You're saying, she didn't try to devour her men, her children, any slob who walked into her path? You're saying, she was, what? -- An ideal little homemaker, like, she's the Mrs.Brady of goddesses?"

Diantha's eyes slitted for an instant, sparking glints of fire almost completely shielded by her false lashes. "Oh, my dear girl, you must join us tonight for the special Womanfeast. You will be most welcome, and what better way for me to open your eyes to the womansong of the goddess? Come and share the beauty, the taste and texture, of this most delicious night with us."

"Uh...womansong, all one word, right, like firstmother," Laura tapped the polysyllabic gibberish into her laptop. "Tonight? Okay, can I take pictures for 'Womanfolke' mag?"

As they parted, Laura was just a little rattled by the intensity of Diantha's good-bye kiss. Not that she hadn't been expecting a kiss. Diantha was known for being a horny old bitch, and she still exuded sexual energy in buckets, Laura had to admit. She walked out through the garlanded gateposts to her Corolla, wondering if tonight, there would be some kind of womanorgy. That could just make this all worthwhile. Any amount of new age swill will go down easier with sex. And I've had such a dry spell here since April, Laura decided, as she drove away. At three cents a word, fuck journalistic integrity, I could use a fix.

When Laura reached the gate that night, there were actual armed guards. Oh, how non-PC and retro. Diantha hiring men! Laura shook her head and showed her invitation to the hulking mass of testosterone on the right. Yes, an order of fries, and Sumo-size them, she thought. These guys would look more at home bouncing drunks from the strip bars. She walked between the evil Buddha brothers, up a twin row of luminaria to the glowing tent. The ubiquitous New age sound of rain sticks and pan flutes provided her own personal background music. Laura felt like the star of her own sleazy docudrama. Move over, Sally-Jessie. Time to go native. She undid a few buttons at the low neckline of her filmy dress, allowing ample amounts of tanned fleshy breast to shift and quiver into view as she walked. More guards stood in front of the tent's opening. Women, this time, and they had to be blood relatives of Xena, she was sure. The muscled pair scrutinized Laura's body as carefully as they had inspected her invitation. She tried out her seductress smile on the brunette Amazon as they brushed fingertips. "Oh, you won't need this back," the guard smirked, as she tucked Laura's invitation away. "We'll remember you."

Nodding and smiling, Laura made her way inside. Now, she thought hard, did this particular cut-and-paste outfit have anything against alcohol? No, there's the wine bar now. Laura took up a glass of mulled spiced burgundy and inhaled the fumes. Sexy. She undid another button on her dress and strolled into the gathering, parting clouds of estrogen as she slinked down into her best slutty slouch. Not as many here as she had expected. The morning crowds of casual lookie-loo's were gone. There were maybe thirty women here, altogether, and they were arrayed around the center, with silky curves, all lush long legs and delectable breasts and temptress tresses. They were the Wimmenfolke, the Lilith Lovers, the jewels in Diantha's crown.

The tent was circular with high walls and a peaked roof. The apex of the roof opened to the weather and allowed cooking smoke to travel up and out. They had constructed a series of counters, in a U-shape topped with gleaming steel, and in the center, there were two huge cooking fires, one surrounding an enormous pot. Funny, Laura mused as she bumped breasts and elbows in the increasing crush of womanflesh, I had figured them for vegans, but that fire is set up for some serious barbeque. Laura drained a second (third?) glass of wine and lurched closer to the action, watching pretty girls do tricky things with flashing knives. As her stomach rumbled, and she thought, "Let the feast begin! I'm ready for some fun and I wouldn't mind a taste of whatever I smell simmering in that pot."

"Glad to hear it!" said Diantha, suddenly appearing in front of Laura. The redhead grasped Laura's chin and kissed her slowly, lingering and shifting, moving her soft lips and nibbling at Laura's. Diantha pulled her closer and explored Laura's mouth, tasting spice and wine. "You are especially sweet and yummy tonight, Laura."
"Did I actually SAY that? Uh, huh, nice to see you, too," Laura asked, smiling. She was quite unable to feel the tip of her nose. A few more kisses like that and she was signing up for Lilith's club. Uh, oh, losing my sharp journalistic edge, better slow down, she giggled. "Why such low attendance? I thought this was a special woman-dealie-bob tonight."

Diantha put a warm arm around Laura's shoulders and guided her around the perimeter of the cooking area. "This night is for my LilithLovers only, dear, a special feast to honor the spirit of the goddess." As they walked, drinking more wine and touching, Laura watched golden beauties sharpening long knives. Diantha had stopped their circular progress right at the bottom of the U-shaped table. On the opposite side, vegetables and herbs and apples were chunked and tossed into the simmering, immense black pot. Laura couldn't help it, she was overcome with laughter as it struck her for the first time. "It's just like the witches!"

Diantha had maneuvered Laura against the lip of the prep table, and as Laura hiccuped and excused herself, Diantha smiled and said simply, "Get up."

Laura's smile slipped a bit as she swung her head up a bit too hard, dizzy. She felt the steel pressing into her generous buttocks. Woozy now, boy, these Lilithladies know how to spike the punch, she giggled. Diantha grasped her shoulders and pressed herself between Laura's legs, pushing her harder into the table. "Upsie-daisie, Laura, let's play a little."

Holy shit, they really do have orgies at these things, thought Laura as her outer journalist succumbed to her raging inner womanlust. "You want to fuck me here on the table," asked Laura, "in front of the cooks?"

Diantha smiled as she raised manicured nails to tweak Laura's hardening nipples. Laura grinned and cupped her own breasts, lifting them up like an appetizer, offering them to the first Lilith Lady. She cooed as Diantha sucked in a generous mouthful and stroked her. Laura arched, head back, and said, "Yes, bite me!" She didn't see the way Diantha grinned and salivated, but she felt the sting of Diantha's sharp teeth. Laura nearly fell forward and off the countertop when, with a sucking pop, Diantha released Laura's breast and stood back. The Faire Lilith lady grasped and steadied the sweaty journalist.

"Tell you what, honey," answered Diantha, casually stripping to the waist, "You sit these first two out and tell me how you'd like to join the party, after." Laura thought, "What? First two? She's going to do us in order? " She watched as Diantha turned her impressive chest away and walked to her cadre of eager assistants. The three strapping beauties had also stripped, and were looking like breakfast, lunch , and dinner. Ooo, baby, that's what I like! Laura drew up her legs, got comfy on the steel table and followed the action. The half-naked women murmured together, nodding, gesturing to the pot, to the spit above the second fire, and once or twice, back to Laura. She smiled and waved, sipped her wine and tried to stay vertical.

She watched as the four half-naked women lined up before the thirty women who had formed a silent half circle. For the first time, Laura noticed that there were two distinct groups, the two dozen-plus Amazons and the four or five more like her, svelte, but not Olympic. I should get some pics of this, she figured, and dug through her bag and found her little camera. Oh yes, maybe sell these to a porn site, I'd make ten times what the new age pubs have to offer. She started shooting.

Her pictures would have made an interesting documentary later, if they had not joined Diantha's cache of womantreasure. Shot one, a bit off center: There was a tall blond woman embracing a short redhead, Blonde's arm around Redhead's neck, her muscled forearm across Red's windpipe. Red was looking a bit startled. Shot two: Diantha was busy working over Red, stripping her bare? Zoom in, yes. Yummy! Diantha led the naked, gasping redhead off behind a screen of women near the giant pot. Oh, this is wild stuff, Laura thought, and what a great view I have up here. But, hey, down in front!

Shot three: Blurry, but you could still see the bronzed and oiled body of assistant Becky (tattooed on her oiled biceps) as she took a little brunette over and hoisted her up onto a table next to the barbecuing area. She hoisted her up, and wow, shot four: The brunette was being bound up tight by three sexy shapely girls, white rope now carefully encircling her ankles and wrists. They turned her, ass up and on her knees and elbows. And what? What's that they're doing to her now? Shots five, six seven, eight: They greased her whole body, even her little pussy! Three pairs of women's hands caressed every inch of that lucky brown-haired girl. Her skin gleamed under their slender fingers. She moaned and arched and was anointed; her skin took on a glowing sheen. These Lilith gals got the wildest foreplay ever, Laura thought.

They left the little brunette, bound tight as a trussed pork roast, and the three women, dressed in matching leather thongs, walked to the barbecue pit. Zoom in! Laura got a great shot of two shapely naked women lifting and releasing the two ends of an eight foot steel pole from its position above the glowing fire, oven mitts all around. Great picture of those straining abs and delts, those sweaty breasts looking as good as Thanksgiving dinner. What were they doing now? Auto focus isn't keeping up with this wine, Laura giggled. The women seemed to be greasing the spit. Wo! Blurry shot of two other assistants, breasts pressed in close to the little brunette's heaving, arching body as they forced her to lie still. Why was she making such a fuss? Maybe she likes that play-rape stuff, Laura mused. Holy moly, then they brought that spit around. They were aiming one sharpened end of it right at that Brunette's juicy little pussy! Laura stumbled off the table to get a better view.

Shot nine through eighteen: Unbelievable. They spitted her. Laura's hands shook as she recorded each inch of the action. The brunette screamed as the most muscled of the assistants grasped the greased and sharpened shaft of the pole and aligned it with the shivering woman's glistening pussy. The two helpers petted the tearful woman who crouched between them, and held her still as the spit inched ever closer. Laura's camera zipped and zinged as the spit was pressed in, now disappearing between her labia. Laura involuntarily clenched herself tight, and felt a throbbing ache within her. The muscled blond seemed to take her time, edging the spit deeper in, and whispering soft assurances to the shrieking brunette on the table. Laura became so mesmerized, watching the slowly disappearing shaft, she failed to record at least a foot of its progress. Suddenly the brunette gurgled, and the tip of the shaft emerged from her mouth, glistening wetly red.
Laura wavered on her feet and sank down to the floor. Her camera lay in her lap as she watched four bronzed women wipe blood from their hands and fix the shuddering body of the brunette tighter to the cooking pole. Because that's what this is, Laura realized, this is cooking. This is a real Womanfeast. They are going to put her body over that fire, and lock the spit in place and turn the crank and make her rotate slowly. They will watch her breasts drip sweat and juice and then they'll baste her, and omigod, I'm getting wet, here! Just as Laura was getting it, letting the whole idea of tender juicy woman meat invade her consciousness, the second course, Act Two in this amazing night, began rolling in before her widening eyes.

Diantha pushed through the crowd of women and rolled out the redhead, who sat lotus style, on a wheeled cart. She was adorable. They'd woven herbs and edible flowers, nasturtiums? into her hair and she looked squeaky clean, rosy from a vigorous scrubbing. Two sweaty women wiped their brows and put their loofahs aside. They helped guide the redhead, resplendent, nude and drunk with wine, wheeling her table out into the crowd. Diantha walked, regal and erect at the rear of the table, beaming pride. She sang something that sounded vaguely gustatorial as she summoned the circle to reform around the second fire. Yes, it really is a witches' pot, Laura thought, as she rose on rubber legs and made her way closer to the front of the circle. As the inebriated journalist made her way between them, careening from one soft bosom to another, she was kept from falling by eager, helpful hands. Laura leaned heavily into a luscious hennaed woman of about forty who caught her just as Laura was about to fall. "There you go, sweet. Get up front, yes, You don't want to miss a thing."

Laura's camera slipped from her numb fingers and fell between the feet of the women who crowded close together to watch the procession as it reached the front. The redhead's garland slipped a bit as she was lifted by four incredibly fit women and helped into the pot. They took Red's legs, grasping her rounded calves and juicy thighs, and guided them over the lip. Then raising her higher still, they placed their hands under her meaty bottom and gently lifted her over the rim and into the pot. They held her upright, helping her settle on her feet and grow accustomed to the shimmering brothy mix. Red's face flushed, and beads of sweat and seasoned oil started to dribble down her breasts. Her body quivered and little rivulets ran down her belly and thighs, and disappeared into the bubbling surface just beyond her knees. One of her attendants took Red's hands and bound them snugly behind her, and let her fingers dangle into the cleft of her firm round ass. Placing their hands on her shoulders and at her elbows, her attendants pressed Red down into the pot. She drifted in, stopping with her breasts at nipple level. They almost floated on the surface as the brothy foam caressed them. Red sighed, her eyelids fluttered, and she reclined, resting her head on the lip of the pot.

As if in counterpoint, a collective sigh escaped the crowd. Laura realized she'd been holding her breath. She watched as Diantha bent over the serenely simmering redhead, and placed a garnet apple in her luscious pouty mouth. The herbs and fruits and vegetables swirled and circled around Red's glistening body. Tiny bubbles simmered on the surface of the stock. Red's breasts swelled as she sank lower, and now her lolling head joined her breasts, her thighs, her feet, her belly, all lush and simmering in the pot.

"In the pot," Laura thought, "She's cooking in the pot and I am on fire here! Oh god that's hot!" Laura put her index finger in her mouth and sucked it.

"Happy to hear you're enjoying this," Diantha said, moving in and sliding an arm around the journalist's waist. She whispered, "Yes, you DID say that out loud, dear. Now what have you decided, after seeing our first two offerings to the Goddess? Will you join us," Diantha said as she nuzzled close and sucked Laura's earlobe, "Or will you join the feast itself?"

Three hours later the aromas filled the night air, a rich profusion of succulent roasted meats and the heady scent of an ambrosial stew. The Sumos at the gate could hardly stand it, but they held their posts, each casting sideways glances at the shadow figures looming huge on the tent's surface, a shadow puppet dance of demon goddesses from hell. The men stood firm and smelled the air and hoped there would be a meal in it for them. Laughter and the sound of tinkling crystal drifted out with the last vestiges of smoke into the midnight air.

Inside, the U-shaped tables help a smorgasbord beyond compare. As the thirty worthy women lined up to take their part, all eyes were focused on the centerpiece. A gleaming platter held a golden crisped delicacy of womanmeat, garnished with ruby fruit and verdant greens. To each side of the resplendent roast, oozing clear juice and glowing pink, Red's tender meat had been divided into two huge tureens of girlmeat, simmered to rich perfection. And standing on the dias, high above all the others, hand in hand, the two new lovers, Laura and her proud Diantha laughed and cried out, "Lilith Lovers! One and all, come join the feast!"